


The Egyptian Job

by I Like Plan M (onelaststand)



Series: The Adventures of Jak [2]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Archaeology, Egypt, Eliot/OMC, Hockey, M/M, Middle East, Moreau
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-02-23
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onelaststand/pseuds/I%20Like%20Plan%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old friend of Eliot's comes looking for some help.  Digging through your past is never a good idea.</p><p>This is my first time posting a fanfic any advice is welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Southern Welcomes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leverage, its characters, and its settings are not mine, but Jak is.

Jak walks up to the bar at McRory’s pub in Boston and sets down his backpack on the floor.   Its an old fashioned neighborhood bar where you can go after work and relax while throwing darts or shooting pool.  A place with a warm atmosphere where the drinks flow, a place where people feel at home, like the ABC Tavern back home in Ohio City on 25th St.  The last time he saw the hitter, he said that if Jak ever needed to find him that he would be at McRory’s in Boston, so that’s where Jak finds himself.  But what does it mean, will he be there, or does the bartender know how to relay a message to him.  So he walks up to the bar against his better judgement and orders himself a shot of Jack Daniels and asks the bartender if he has seen a friend of his, a friend from Iraq, a man named Eliot Spencer.  Jak knocks back the shot and enjoys the hard kick while watching the bartender pick up the phone at the other end of the bar and make a call.

The bartender looks down the bar at Jak, trying to size him up to relay the message upstairs to the apartment where Eliot and the team made their headquarters.  Jak surprised, by the glance from the bartender wonders what is going on.  For a six foot tall man of about 200 pounds built like a tank from years of digging archaeological sites, he really shouldn’t be worried, he hasn’t lost a fight in years, but he is still a little wound up from what has happened over the past few weeks.

As Jak goes to order another shot and a beer chaser he is tapped on the shoulder as he gets a fist to the jaw knocking him on his ass.

*******

I look up as everything starts to come back into focus again, and I see the bluest eyes staring down at me.  Eliot is staring down with a disapproving look on his face.  The man is a little bit shorter than I am, a little bit stronger build than I have, he has the world’s bluest eyes and they are framed by a mane of shoulder length brown hair.  “Jesus christ, El! What the fuck was that for?” I said as I came to from the shock of the punch.  “Is this how you greet all your friends?”

“Why aren’t you in the Middle East digging or something?” rumbles that Southern drawl with just a hint of anger as Eliot reaches out a hand and pulls Jak off the floor of the bar.

“Well HELLO to you to!  I came by because I need a little help and I can’t exactly go to the authorities on this, so I came to the only place where I knew I could find it.  Okay!”  I exclaim as I turn around and try to order that second shot, this time it is to help dull the pain radiating from my jaw.

“What do mean you need help and can’t go to the authorities?”

“Lets grab a couple drinks and a table before I start, it’s going to be a long night.  You still only drinking beer?”  I ask Eliot as I turn around once again to order drinks.

“Yeah I won’t make that mistake again.”  Says Eliot now more relaxed and at ease after clocking an old friend.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask, slightly offended.

Eliot just glares at me, and I am not even going to go there, as he has alrady clocked me once tonight.  I turn to the bartender and order a second shot of Jack Daniels for myself and a round of beer for Eliot and myself.  I slam down the shot, pickup the tab, leave a very good tip for the bartender under the shot glass and thank him for not kicking me out, and head over to the booth in the corner where Eliot was already sprawled out and settled in for a long story.  Setting the beers down on the table I slide in on the other side from Eliot and take a sip before starting in on the events of the past two weeks.  This is the last place I want to be in the entire world at the moment, but I have no choice in the matter.  I’ve made my bed and now I must sleep in it.

“What kind of trouble did you get into that only I apparently can help you with?”  Eliot asks mockingly knowing that I like to keep things on this side legal so that I doesn’t lose funding or worse my place in the PhD program since I am just a few weeks away from finally getting my PhD in bioarchaeology.

“Well El, you know that I worked archaeological sites in the holy lands when I was an undergrad, and I left when I was working on my masters in physical anthropology to go work for the army in the middle east, investigating questionable, encounters that ended up with people dead.”  I stop and think about how to go on from here.  “After that I began working archaeological sites again, I am the biological anthropologist for this project in Egypt.”  I take a deep breath.  “I have kinda run into a little bit of trouble.”

“That still don’t explain why you’re here, in Boston asking for my help.”  Eliot retorts.

“You know how I am real careful about logging everything, in multiple places just in case something happens, especially with how things are in Egypt right now.  Well I found a few discrepancies in the logs, most of it was just little stuff like miscopying something off of a bag, but there were a couple artifacts missing.”  I down the rest of the beer before trying to continue.

“You’re crazy, someone probably just forgot to check it out and put it back after you checked?” Eliot says in a very annoyed manner.

I wave down the waitress and order myself another beer, Eliot passes, still nursing his first.  “You really think I would have come out here just for that.  We have been testing a new digital record keeping system that duplicates the database to a server and to every individual device that would make something like this impossible, and you know me I still like my hard copies of paperwork.  Well, a couple of items have gone missing from storage and from the digital records over the past few weeks, but not from my paper records.”

“Kay, so one of your crew is stealing artifacts and selling them.  It happens go to the police.”  Eliot grunts even more annoyed than before.

“I also thought of that, so I leave my webcam set for motion and run a key logger on the terminal in my office where we store artifacts before I go home for the night, and I caught the person.  It wasn’t one of my team, I’m sure of it.”  I hand Eliot my phone with a picture of the guy stealing stuff from me.

“Jesus Christ, Jak!”  Eliot looks up from the picture like he knows who is behind the thefts.  “What do you want me to do about this?”  Eliot asks.

“They’re taking artifacts that are linked directly to me, they are only taking artifacts which would link directly back to me, and only me as the person who would be responsible.  Also the guys who are doing this aren’t your average thief, if that was the case I would have taken care of it right away.  We have some of the best security in place which is the only reason why the antiquity authorities are letting us work there.  Some one is trying to set me up.  Come on El, can’t you help an old friend.”  I am trying not to pull THAT card, and Eliot can hear it in my voice read it on my face and caves just so that he doesn’t have to hear me utter those word.

“Damn it Jak!  Yeah I know a guy.  We need to go upstairs.  You owe me, and THAT never happened.”  Eliot growls, not liking what he is about to do as he takes Jak upstairs to Nate’s apartment.

  
  
  



	2. Breaking the News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot introduces Jak to Nate, this would be the client meeting in a normal episode.

Eliot leads Jak up the stairs located in the back of the bar to Nate’s apartment.  Outside the door to the apartment Eliot turns and faces Jak.  “Stay here until I break this to the team.”

“Wait team?  I thought that Eliot Spencer worked alone, as the lone wolf, never needed no one.”  I quipped and instantly knew that it was the wrong thing to say, and blocked my face from another right hook to my jaw, the last one knocked me cold on the floor.

Instead of slugging me Eliot responds to my question.

“I, I do, well I did.  A man can change, can’t he?”  Eliot says in a very agitated manner.  “Just wait while I get the team ready to meet you.”

With that Eliot goes inside that apartment, and I set my pack down on the floor and sit against the wall across from the door waiting patiently.

 

As Eliot walks through the door he sees Nate Ford sitting on the couch watching baseball on the huge screen that Hardison had installed when he bought the building.  Nathan Ford, former insurance investigator for IYS Insurance, about 10 years older than Eliot with messy brown hair. 

When Nate hears the door latch he looks up at Eliot.  “Where did you run off to during the middle of a game?”

“I had to take care of something important.”  Eliot said trying to find the words.  “Nate, I think I just found our next client.  An old friend of mine working over in Iraq just came by and he kind of needs my help” taking a deep breath “our help Nate”

“There is no way we are doing this not after the job we did for your friend Willy.  You got way too involved with the client’s daughter putting the whole team at risk.”  Nate quickly responds like a parent who’s kid just asked to take the car joyriding with his friends.

“Nate it’s not like with Aimee, I just worked with the guy over in the middle east for a little while, that’s it I swear.”  Eliot trying his best to plead his case before his boss.

“Being one of your friends and having worked in the middle east, can’t he take care of himself.”  Nate retorts.

“He’s not in my line of work.  He’s...He’s” Eliot stumbles trying to find words, embarrassed about having worked security for and archaeological dig, like it would ruin his reputation.  “He’s an anthropologist.  He is excavating sites in the middle east to preserve and document them so that the information is not lost.”

“And why does he need our help?”  Nate keeps prodding, wishing for a drink instead of listening to Eliot right now.

“He kinda has a problem with theft and it kinda sounds like the stuff that Moreau is into.”  Eliot says trying to give Nate more reason to think about taking the job.

 

 

A rattling noise comes from above, and I look up to see where it came from when I notice the vent open up and a beautiful, but definitely weird blond woman hangs part way out of the open vent and stares at me like I have the plague or something equally horrible.  The door to Nate’s apartment opens up and Eliot emerges.  All that I can hear before the blond in the vent disappears is “Hi Eliot” in a quiet voice from above.

“A friend of yours El?”

“No that’s just Parker, being...well being Parker.” Eliot shrugs it off as if he sees her popping out of air vents all the time.

“No that’s twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag, El.”  I quickly respond.  “Does she normally crawl around in air ducts?”

Eliot doesn’t answer my question.  “Come on Nate’s waiting to talk with you.”

“But why is there a blond in the duct work that knows your name?”  I ask, confused like hell, and grab my bags off of the floor and follow Eliot in to the apartment.

“Don’t worry you’ll meet her later.”  Eliot tells me as he opens the door and we enter the apartment.  I follow him around the couch where there is a middle aged gentleman sitting watching baseball on the giant screen in front of him.  “Nate, this is Jak.  Jak this is Nathan Ford, the man I have been working for lately.”

“Call me Nate.” Nate says as he stands and extends a hand to me.

“It’s nice to meet you.”  I cautiously say not quite sure about the man whose hand I was shaking.  I couldn’t quite tell what his angle was, and my stomach starts doing filps. There is something about this man that I just can't seem to put my finger on. It's like I've  met him before but I can't remember where.

“Please have a seat.  I understand that you used to work with Eliot a few years ago.”  Nate says, trying to get me to open up, and I think maybe trying to gleam a little bit about Eliot’s past.

 

"Yeah, I met Eliot during the summer of my sophomore year, he was working security for the dig that I was working on in Israel.  He taught me how to fight in the evenings.  Even saved my life a couple of times.”  I tell recalling the memories and the scars as I go on.  “The last time that I saw El, was the summer after I graduated, before I started grad school and working for the military identifying the bodies of soldiers killed in action.”

“So, Jak, why do you need the services of my hitter and team?” Nate asks sensing that further questioning wold lead nowhere based on the signals that Eliot was sending to Jak.

“Well I have been working in Egypt the past year heading up a project that is comparing the health of past and present populations in Nile River valley.  We recently had started excavating a large group of sarcophagi from below a modern day city.  Shortly after we started digging all hell breaks loose in Egypt, the government is collapsing and people are looting everything that they can get their hands on, we got lucky and had a good security team and only had some tools stolen, but nothing of value.  A week later one of the sarcophagi goes missing and the records in the database as well, but not the original paper ones.  Those I had taken back to my apartment that night to read over.  So, I get a little paranoid and leave my computer webcam running at night, a couple of weeks go by, another sarcophagus is stolen, this time I catch the guy on camera removing the records from the system.”  I pull out my phone and hand it to Nate and show him the photo of the guy from my office.

“Nate, it’s one of Moreau’s guys.” Eliot chimes in.

“If it was anyone else stealing from me, I could go to the authorities, or handle it myself, but I can’t risk any of my crew, they’re scientists not fighters.  I can’t do this by myself, that’s why I’m here.”  I say, but just saying it take the last of my pride away.

“That’s why you wanted us to take this job.”  Nate scolds his hitter for not giving him more detail.  Turning to me.  “Don’t worry, a friend of Eliot’s is a friend of ours.  Why don’t you and Eliot go down stairs while I gather the rest of my crew.”

“Thank You, Mr. Ford.”  I say with the deepest sincerity, as I grab my stuff and head back to the door with Eliot behind me.

 

“Hey, Eliot.” Nate calls out after him.  Eliot turns and tells Jak to go ahead. “Next time if Moreau is involved, lead with it...and keep an eye on Jak if Moreau is targeting him he’s not safe by himself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about taking so long with this chapter but my linguistics class was hell this semester on top of taking human osteology. Any comments are always welcome.


	3. A Changed Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jak and Eliot catch up on the past three years, and Nate and the rest of the team start planning the job.

Outside of Nate’s apartment I wait in the hall for Eliot to catchup with me.  I look back at the man that I thought I knew, realizing that his stance is different, like he is more off guard than he used to be.  He is very open with the way he interacts with this Nate Ford.  It had taken me an entire year to build up enough trust with Eliot, for him to let me know anything about his past.  He might look like the same Eliot I remember, but he is different now.

“Why are you staring at Eliot like you want to steal him?”  asks Parker, still in the air duct from earlier.  

I look up at the blond in the vent.  “What are you talking about?”  I question back, thinking of how one would even fathom stealing a person, let alone a man like Eliot who could kill you ten different ways with his thumb alone.

“Hey what are ya lookn at?”  Eliot asks, startling me, I didn’t even know that he had finished talking with his boss.  Damn that man moves like a cat.

“That blond from earlier, the one in the air vent...” I start.

“...Parker.” Eliot finishes for me, as if no time had passed between us.

“Bye Eliot, and Eliot’s thief.”  Parker says as she makes her exit back into the ventilation system.

“Yeah her.”  I say as I point up to where the thief in the vent was.  We start to head back to the stairs to the bar below.  “She just asked me if I wanted to steal you before you interrupted...me, steal you.” Like anyone could steal one of he world’s best hitters, let alone an anthropologist.

**********

When we get back to the bar Eliot orders us another round of beers before we head back the the table that we were sitting at earlier.  A tall, slender, young, African American man walks up to Eliot and whispers something into his ear, and then heads for the stairs that we had just came down.

“Another friend of yours?”  I question as Eliot looks back at me.

“That’s Hardison, our computer guy. I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend though.” Eliot retorts.

Since it seems like I struck a nerve with Eliot I try a different angle than before.  “So you work with team know, What happened to Eliot the lone ranger, the wolf?”  I question.

“You really won’t let up on this will ya?”  Eliot jabs.

“No”

“Yes, I have changed.”  Eliot begins.  “Yes, I work with a team now.”  Eliot sighs, as though he has been through this a million times before and would rather not be talking about it.  “And yes, before ya ask, they are like family to me.”

“Touchy, are we laddie.”  I say in my best attempt at a Scottish accent to try to ease the tension.  All I get is an angry growl.

“Fine I won’t go there.  Oh...” I grab the dog tags from around my neck, that I have been wearing since the last time I saw him.  “...you left these in Masada, before you left.”  I hand them to Eliot.

“Thanks.”  Eliot breathes out and puts them on.

**********

New topic, new topic.  I remember a friend on mine from back home sending me a link to a video on you tube of a guy named Kenneth Crane that looked an awful lot like Eliot, and sounds exactly like Eliot when he sings.  

“So have you ever head of this new country singer Kenneth Crane?”  I ask, as nonchalantly as possible while Eliot takes a sip of his beer.

Spitting out his beer across the table.  “No never heard of him before.”  Eliot states.

“Bull shit, you’ve heard of him.  If I didn’t know any better I would say that you were Kenneth Crane.  But the Eliot I know is sacred shit less about singing in front of a crowd.”  I respond.

“What if I told you, I did go up there and sing for a client, would ya believe me then?”  Eliot counters to my response.

“I’d say how good was she?”  I ask knowing that Kenneth Crane is really him.

“Why would you assume it was some girl?”  Eliot asks back.

“Because I already knew it was you, and the only way you would ever get up on a stage in front of people and sing was if you thought you would get some from it.”  I state.

“Hold on a minute, how’d ya know it was me in the video?”  Eliot asks me, while giving me glare between inquisitive and thems fightn words.

“Because, to borrow a phrase, you have a distinctive singing style.  So how good was she?”  I state while taking a generous swig from my pint.

“Jak.”  Eliot growls.

“It’s either this our your new family, I wanna know what’s been going on with you.  You’ve found out about all the trouble I’ve gotten into lately now it’s your turn.”  I reply with the devilish smirk I rarely get to use anymore.

“But, but.”  Eliot succumbing to my will.  “Yeah, she was good.  She was a client we helped a few months back.  The record producer she was working for was stealing from her and her brother, we got her, her money back, and jump started her career.”

“Any other good jobs since we last talked, its been so boring in the lab, and the last time I heard from you was two years ago.”  Pleading a little more, science is really boring.

***********

In Nate’s apartment the rest of the crew, minus Eliot have gathered for the usual pre-job planning meeting.

“So we have our next step towards finding Moreau and we need to get started on this right away, because we have a limited time frame on this one.”  Nate opens with before handing the meeting off to Hardison to do his thing.

“Wait, where’s Eliot?” Sophie asks.

“He’s waiting with the client while we finish the planning.”  Nate responds.

“Well, our client is Jonathon Andrew Kramer also known as Jak, a PhD candidate studying Bioarchaeology at St. Ingatius University in Ohio City.  He has been working on a couple archaeological sites in Egypt doing the physical anthropology analysis on human remains that are found and has recently become the target of good friend Damien Moreau.”  Hardison goes through the usual briefing routine.

“Go back to the picture of our client.”  Sophie asks, and Hardison swaps the pictures on the screen.  “I have this feeling that I have seen him before but I can’t think of where.”

“I had the same feeling when I met him.”  Nate chimes in.

“Well nothing suspicious has shown up in his background, well other than knowing our hitter.”  Hardison responds not quite believing what he found.

“So our good friend Damien Moreau has taken a liking to Jak, and the sarcophagi he has been finding in an undisclosed city in Egypt.  I’m thinking we need to plant a fake sarcophagus for our good friend to steal.”  Nate explains.  “Lets go steal a mummy.”

“Did you just say lets go steal a mummy?  Mmm, mmm no man, Nana said to stay away from the dead.”  Hardison complains.

“Just call the boys back up from downstairs, they can get to know each other again later.”  Nate orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I am losing my job on Thursday I will have more time to work on this until I find a new job. Any comments are always welcome. As always all characters except for Jak are not mine, and I make no claim to them.


	4. The Rashomon Job Redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew sets in the first part of the plan and Jak and Sophie have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always the characters of leverage and leverage are not mine, but Jak is, yadda, yadda, yadda, I never hear from him again.

“So we were working on taking down this corrupt mayor in Belbridge who had a cop shot, and Nate figures out that the way to get the mayor is to steal a baseball team and make him think we are moving it to Belbridge.”  Eliot starts another story.

“Wait how do you steal a baseball team?”

“You don’t actually steal the team, you plant rumors from the inside the team that it is being moved, and you sell the mark a ball park to move the team to.”

“So how did you get inside the team?”  I ask still not believing what Eliot is telling me.

“They had me play the new catcher for the team, that has been sent down by management to keep an eye on things.”

“So you guys pulled a Crash Davis on them...wait you played baseball.”  I did a double take at what I just said.  “I thought you only liked sports where you can score on defense.”  Who is this guy, and what has he done with the Eliot I knew?  First he’s working with a team, and now he is playing baseball.  What else has changed about the man that I thought I once knew.

“Well I didn’t like the job at first.  But then I picked up a bat and went into the cages and hit a dinger, and it felt really good to use a baseball bat the right way for the first time.  What’s a Crash Davis?”  Eliot questions me.

“Not what, but who.  Crash Davis is one of the lead characters in Bull Durham, a catcher brought up to keep an eye on a new pitcher for the Durham Bulls.”  Eliot looks at me like I have two heads or something.  “I understand not having a TV, but come on, you don’t go out to the movies, really?”

Eliot puts his hand to his ear and concentrates on the sound of Hardison’s voice coming over the com in his ear.  “Hey man, they’re ready for us upstairs.”  He tells me.

“We are not done with this.”  I tell Eliot as I grab my stuff and we head back up the stairs that we came down earlier in the evening after meeting with Nate.

 

I follow Eliot through the door back into Nate’s apartment.  Sitting on the couches are the blond from the air vents, Parker, that thinks I am trying to steal Eliot, and the young African American guy, Hardison, that was talking with Eliot down in the Bar.  Nate is still seated where he was earlier.  To my surprise, I see my old supervisor from the Boston Museum of Art & Antiquities when I interned there during my sophomore year, Dr. Karen Ipcress.

“Dr. Ipcress.  You...you were my supervisor at the museum. You were at the museum the night that the dagger of aqu’abi was stolen, and then you disappeared the next day.”  I yell at the woman with the dark hair in Nate’s kitchen, I suddenly realize why Nate looked familiar earlier.  “And you, now I know why I recognized you earlier.  You were the insurance investigator that I told that the dagger was a fake and, and  you told me to get lost.”

“Wait a second, you were the long haired kid that thought there was a problem with the dagger.”  Nate jabs at me after finally putting it together.

“Yeah I was, and if you would have listened to me in the first place, the damn thing probably wouldn’t have been stolen.”  I strike back.

“Jak, I want you to meet Sophie, our grifter”  Eliot says leading me over to the woman that I had known as Dr. Ipcress five years earlier.

“So we were all there that night, that must make you a thief too.”  Parker says to me with glee.

“What?” Everyone but Parker says in unison.

“There’s something wrong with you.”  Eliot quips at the overly joyous theif.

“He was at the museum the night we were trying to steal the dagger, and he looked like he wanted to steal Eliot earlier, so he must be a thief.” Parker says trying to explain herself to everyone else in the room.

This must have been an example of what Eliot had describe as Parker logic.  A group of non-sequiturs that some how make sense only to the intriguing blond who travels via air duct.  How did they ever get a job done together, if this was the way her logic worked.

“Parker, Jak was actually working for the museum as an intern, a real legitimate intern at the museum, he was not running a con that night.”  Eliot does his best at trying to explain that not everyone who was there that night was part of the heist to Parker, while rubbing his temples.

“If, you don’t mind us getting back to the job at hand cus someone has to catch a flight out to Ohio City tonight if I read your information right.”  Hardison says bringing everyone back to the task at hand.

Eliot leans in and whispers in my ear “Don’t ask right now I’ll explain later.” like he could still read my mind.  I just nod in agreement to what he has said and file it away to ask later.

“So, this is our client, Jak, a friend of Eliot’s, and apparently a former intern at the Boston Museum of Art & Antiquities.” Nate introduces me to the group.  “When he returns to Egypt next week we will need to send Eliot in with him for protection and recon.  The only problem is the cover story.”

“I could claim that he is a student with an expertise in martial arts and weapons.”  I start, that should be easy since it the only part that isn’t true is the whole Eliot being a student thing.  “The only thing is that we need to get him basic knowledge in physical anthropology.”

“Since you should have protection while your in Ohio City, he could take the time and spend it studying in your lab, and keep a close eye on you.”  Nate comes up with.

“Nate I don’t have time to train El in physical anthropology in the next week, I am going there to defend my dissertation, not give a hitter a crash course in anthropology.”  I shot back, even though I would love to help out in anyway that I can, but I really need to focus on my dissertation.

“Is that forensic anthropologist still in your department, that one who writes the books all of the time, can’t you have him teach Eliot?”  Hardison asks, trying to fix the problems at hand.

How does this kid know so much about me, and the people that I work with.  Where did he find all of the information he has on me.  “I guess I could ask him, he does owe me a favor, especially after all that work I did for him on that murder suicide a couple years ago.”

“Good” Nate says “now all I have to do is borrow that mummy from Maggie.”

“I’ve got that, I’ve always wanted to steal a mummy.”  Sophie 

“What?”  I question, I couldn’t have heard that right, and I know that I haven’t had that much to drink.

Eliot leans over and whispers in my ear once again.  “I’ll explain it on the plane.”

“Ok.  Eliot I got you a seat on the same filght as Jak, under your Air Marshal identity.”  Hardison informs Eliot.  “Your guys’ flight leaves in seven hours, now would be a good time to pack.”

I pull Eliot aside and ask if there is any place quiet where I can get a breath of fresh air, and he tells me that he has a garden on the roof that I can use, and I leave my stuff with him.

 

Eliot has setup a really beautiful garden up on the roof of Nate’s building.  It is amazing how a man who brings so much death and destruction to the world can also create something so beautiful as well.  He has practically every plant one would need in an herb garden, a lot of different fall vegetables growing, and somehow he has gotten my favorite flower, jasmine to grow in the middle of Boston.  After the chaos of the night I could really use some peace and take a seat on one of the benches afer I prop the door open.  Just as I begin to meditate someone knocks on the door and walks over to me.  It is Dr. Ipcress..Sophie.

“Do you mind if I join you?”  She asks me in a british accent, sounding strange after hearing her talk in a boston accent when I worked at the museum.  

“Go head, it’s a free country.”  I respond still off in my head thinking about why I even came and asked for Eliot’s help.

“I hope I didn’t cause you any problems by not backing you up when you said that the dagger of aqu’abi fake.”

“You pretty much called me an idiot infront of Nate, but that museum wasn’t really a good fit for me anyways.”  I reply not putting much heart into it.

“I really wanted to believe you, you know.”  Sophie tells me.

“You wanted to believe me?”  I question.

“Well I had been running two different cons to get the dagger, and I had put in so much effort, that I couldn’t bear to think that it was a fake, let alone have a barely twenty-two year old kid realize it and not me.”  Sophie starts, she then changes her tone like she is reliving the moments again.  “You realize I have been grifting since before you were born, and I still can’t believe you were able to tell it was a fake, and I couldn’t.”

“So what do you really want to talk to me about, I doubt it’s about reminiscing about the past, or fixing a wrong.  You don’t really seem the type to apologize for anything.”  I say, just wanting a few minutes alone.

“Your good, you need a little work reading people. Besides I don’t care if I hurt the rich by stealing art from them, they can afford it, by I don’t like hurting people like you with student bills to pay off, or who can barely afford to keep food on the table, that’s just cruel.”  She states, and takes a breath to find the words she wants to say next.  “Your friendship with Eliot seems like more than the two of you let on.  It’s nothing really obvious that the two of you do, it’s little things like the way your eyes dilate when you look at him, or how he scratches his nose after looking at you.”

“How did you even notice that stuff?”  I ask truly astonished, that anyone could pick up on little things like that.  “I...I...I...”  I just sit there stuttering like a fool.

“It’s ok, when you want to tell me, you will.”  She says as she starts to walk away.

“Wait...it’s not what you think.”  I say as Sophie walks back over and sits back down next to me.

  
  
  



	5. The Tale of Jak and Eliot Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hitter goes looking for a mark in a bar. He finds more than he is looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Leverage, or any of its characters. I do take claim to Jak. This has not been beta'd seeing as I have no beta. Sorry it has taken so long to update, but I kinda got caught staging a heist for my film class.

“I probably should let him tell you guys, but we are talking about Eliot and there is a better chance of hell freezing over before he opens up about anything personal with you guys.  I mean we had a relationship, but not a romantic relationship in that sense.”

I can barely believe what I am doing.  I am about to tell one of Eliot’s crew members about how we met, and what went on between us.  But there should at least be someone that should know about our history incase something happens to either one of us.  Why am I even telling this to a world class grifter?  I must have had more to drink than I thought.

“You know Eliot will kill me with just a glare if he ever found out that I told you?”

“Don’t worry, I can always tell Eliot that I conned you into it with neuro-linguistic programming.”  The grifter states matter-of-factly, trying to get me to loosen up.  “I have been able to use it on him before.”  Stating that as if it is something that everyone is able to do.

“Really?” I ask, completely dumb-founded.

“Really.  Though I have never tried it on anyone trained in linguistics before.”  She says questioning herself, as if my being an anthropologist would make any difference on her ability to control me with neuro-linguistic programming.

“Well...” I let it hang trying to find the words.  “Everything began nine years ago...”

 **********

The Bridge View Tavern in Ohio City was just starting its early evening rush on a Wednesday night.  The regular crowd started to move in to the bar and take their places.  It was warm outside, the end of spring with a strong breeze being funneled in from the lake, down the Cuyahoga River, through the open windows of the bar.  The sounds of the Indians playing a game across the river at Jacob’s Field could barely be heard above the din of the bar.  Hanging on the walls of the bar are the owner’s kids high school football and hockey jerseys, and his nephew’s hockey jersey.

A well built man of average height with long brown, and deep blue eyes, and a southern drawl walks up to the bar.  He has spent the better part of the day searching for the young man that he is supposed to be keeping an eye on before they fly out to Israel the next day.  He sits down at the end of the bar closest to the door where he came in, always knowing the escape routes from where ever he is.  The bartender comes over to him to take his order.

“What can I get for you?”  The bartender cordially asks of the stranger.

“Whatever you’ve got on draft would be great.  I am also trying to find a kid who lives around here, he’s about nineteen years old, name’s Jonathan Kramer.  You wouldn’t have seen him, have you?”

“Let me bring my nephew Jimmy over, he’d be better able to help you.”  The bartender states as he passes the beer to the man across from him at the bar. 

The bartender walks down the length of the bar to his nephew who is stocking the cooler with different bottled beers.  His nephew is just a little over six feet tall, short brown hair, and emerald green eyes.  He is wearing a tight fitting black t-shirt with the bar logo on it that shows off the definition that has developed from moving kegs of beer around the bar and playing countless games of hockey.

“Jak, there is a guy with long hair at the other end of the bar looking for you.  I think he might mean trouble.”  The bartender starts helping the other patrons at the bar.

“Thanks, Uncle Jim.”  I say as I stand up and move to the far end of the bar to where the man with the long hair is nursing his beer.  “Name’s Jimmy, Jimmy Lucchese, my uncle said you were looking for someone?”  I ask, giving my adoptive family’s name, not sure if I should trust the attractive stranger.

“Yeah I’m lookin for a kid bout your age, Jonathan Kramer, bout medium length brown hair.  You know him?”  The stranger asks in an irresistible southern drawl.

“Been a while since I’ve seen him.  He has been getting ready to do some kind of research overseas, I think.  He’s not in any kind of trouble is he?”  I ask curious why this man is looking for me.

“I’m supposed ta find this kid and bring him with me to New York.”  the stranger says, takes a drink of his beer.  “I’ve been looking for him for three days, can’t find him.  At this point he’s on his own.”

“Well in that case is there anything else I can get you, before I finish my shift?” I ask, hoping to hear more of that southern drawl.

"Nothing now, but I could use some help getting back to my hotel, I think I may have gotten lost when I crossed the river." the stranger says. "By the way, the name's Eliot."

“You got a last name, or you just Eliot?”  My curiosity is definitely spiked.

“Spencer...Eliot Spencer.”

“Well, Mr. Spencer, give me a few minutes to square away everything in the back and clock out, then I’ll help you to find your way.”  With that I finish unloading the cases of beer, make one last round of the bar, making sure the customers are all satisfied, before clocking out and meeting the stranger at the end of the bar.  I meet up with Eliot at the end of the bar, and we head for the door.  As we exit the Bridge View we are bathed in the warm red orange of the setting of the sun as we walk to the side of the bar where my beat up pick up truck is parked on the street a block away from my little apartment.  I unlock the doors and we get in.

“So...where are you staying?”  I ask as I start my poor excuse for a truck.

 **********

“Wait, so you a nineteen year old kid, manages to pickup a world class hitter in a bar.  I don’t believe it?  I mean you weren’t even old enough to drink.”  Sophie asks like I just told her that I was actually English royalty instead of a middle class boy from Northeast Ohio.

“Well it was just a couple days before my twentieth birthday, and I am offended that you think that I could not get Eliot.  I was being trained as a bartender after all, just incase the whole archaeology thing didn’t pan out.  I learned to figure someone out at first glance.”

“It’s not that, it’s just that Eliot’s type, at least from what we have seen is more...”

I interrupt Sophie.  “I know, his type tends to be more...female.  Flight attendants, nurses, models.  To tell you the truth, I was kind of surprised when he came on to me.”

“That sounds more like the Eliot I know.”

“Wow, kick a guy when he’s down.”  Feeling even more offended than I had before.  “Anyways, where was I?”

“You and Eliot just got in your truck.”  Sophie says in a British accent, that I assume is her natural accent.

 **********

“I’m at the Comfort Inn across from Cleveland State University.”  Eliot says dryly.

I make a u-turn at the end of the street behind the Bridge View and head for the Hope Memorial Bridge and cross the Cuyahoga River.

“Well don’t sound so enthused about your last night here in Ohio City, you get to leave the mistake on the lake come sunrise.”  I say as we get close to the hotel, and are stopped by the cops redirecting traffic around the university campus that the hotel is on, because of the AIDS walk that is blocking the road.

“Well I am glad to be leaving Ohio City, but I came here to find a guy, and I am leaving empty handed.  I don’t like unfinished business.  I mean I’ve been out smarted by a nineteen year old kid.”  

I keep driving down Prospect Avenue looking for a cross street that isn’t blocked by the police for the AIDS walk.  After crossing I90 I come across a street that isn’t blocked.  As I reach to change the dial on the radio I let my arm accidentally brush up against Eliot’s leg.  I make another turn onto Euclid and start back tracking back to East 18th Street where the Comfort Inn is.

“Well I hope that doesn’t ruin your impression of our dismal city.”  I say trying to make Eliot feel better as we reach the hotel.

“Thanks for the lift.”  Eliot says as he shakes my hand.  Our eyes lock on to one another’s and he pulls me into a long slow kiss.  I reach my hand around the back of his neck and run my fingers through his long dark hair, our tongues dueling for control.  His other hand starts making its way up my thigh towards my growing erection.  “And I think I’m starting ta like your dismal city.”  He kisses me with even more force.

I look down at the clock on the radio in my truck and see the time.  I realize that I don’t have as much time to get to the ice rink for my final game before I leave as I thought.  I break the kiss.  “Shit, I wish I could finish this with you, but I have to get across town like yesterday.”  I grab a scrap of paper off the dash and scribble down my info and hand it to Eliot.  “If you ever find yourself in Ohio City again give me a call.” I hand him the paper and steal one last amazing kiss as he gets out of the car.

“Hey kid, thanks for the ride.”  He says before he crosses the street.  Once he gets across the street I see him open the note I gave him as I drive off,  He starts running after me, but I get away.

 **********

Sophie stares up at me.  “What did the note say that stopped Eliot from chasing you?”

“He wrote, ‘You got your guy.  See you on the flight tomorrow.  Have to finish something.  Real name’s Jak’” Eliot quotes.

“That worked?”  Sophie 

“I kept the note.” Eliot says as he pulls the note out of his wallet and hands it to Sophie.  “Jak, I can’t believe you told her.”  

“I...I...I”  I start stuttering.  “Where the hell did you come from, I didn’t hear the door.”

“It’s not his fault Eliot, I helped him along.”  Sophie says ‘helping’ Eliot along into not throwing me off the side of the building.

“Come on, we have to get to the airport to catch a flight back where everything all began.”  Eliot says as he motions to the door.


	6. Unexpected Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot and Jak fly back to Ohio City, and Jak has a night filled with flashbacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still do not have a beta, so sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> I'm sorry for not updating often enough, but I have been busy this semester with trying to finish my degrees.
> 
> As always I do not own Leverage or any part of it. I make no assumptions about certain hockey players mentioned within the work. I do own Jak however.

After a long drive to silent drive to Boston Logan airport I was about ready to kill Eliot.  He kept giving me the silent treatment the whole trip there, no matter how many time I tried to apologize for talking to Sophie.  I just couldn’t wait to get home where I could put a wall between us.  

Nate dropped us off at the terminal where we proceeded to check in for our flight in painful silence.  We moved quietly moved through security without any issues considering that I was transporting human remains in my backpack to look at in the lab back home.

Too bad its so early in the morning, I could really use another drink, I don’t think that I could handle this flight sober.  At least Eliot still acts like a professional, even though he doesn’t let me out of his sight to take a piss in private.

“Dude, the restroom is empty, and I know you are just trying to do your job, but there are boun-dar-ies, even if you have seen me naked before, that do not need to be crossed, and this one of them.”  All he can manage to do is growl at me and give me a menacing stare, which he should know that I am one of he few people on this planet that it does not work on.  “I need to piss and I don’t want a fucking audience!”

“Fine!” Is all that he can muster.

“Oh, look he can speak!”  Eliot responds with a growl, as he walks out.  I am starting to get pissed off and we haven’t even boarded the plane yet.  I walk up to the urinal and take care of my business, ready to punch a wall.

 *****

After waiting under the watchful eye of Eliot we finally board the plane back to Ohio City.  At least El gave me the aisle seat so that I could stretch out my legs while we travel in the cattle car.  Air travel is fine for a man who is five foot ten, but it is quite a different story when you are a six foot one hockey playing archaeologist, with extremely long legs (I can manage to fold my self into a one meter square test unit when the time arises).  The flight attendant comes by our seats and asks if we want anything before we take off, both of us decline.  I pull out a stick of gum to chew so that my ears don’t pop, and I close my eyes, and try to relax as the plane starts to taxi out.  I really hate to fly and I have already been through three flights in the past forty-eight hours, one of which was a trans-Atlantic flight that I wish I didn’t have to repeat in a week.  

As soon as I close my eyes I start to remember the rest of the night when I first met Eliot.

 *****

_Ohio City, Nine years ago_

I am really going to miss this.  Hockey, it is one of the greatest rushes known to man.  There is nothing like the bite of the artificially cooled air rushing past as you skate down the ice during your shift, the sound your skates make as you make a sudden stop, or the feel of scoring a goal during a game.  This is going to be the longest time I have stopped playing since I broke my wrist in high school, I could still skate, but it wasn’t the same as being in a game.  This is going to be my last game  until the winter season starts when I get back in the fall semester, so I am going to make the most of this.  I jump over the boards as we go into a power play.  I meet up with the guys across the ice as they get the puck out of a scrum.  My line mates, my cousin Andy and my best friend Luc are passing the puck back and forth as I get into position.  Andy passes the puck to me and I catch it on the tape of my stick.  I rush the last few feet and take my shot on the net, and the puck goes in.  The puck finds the back of the net with only five seconds to go in the second period.  As my line  mates meet up with me to celebrate out of the corner of my eye I swear I see _the_ hired gun looking for me, sitting in the stands at Winterhurst Arena.  I stop dead in my tracks, I don’t think he has seen me yet.

“Dude, what’s wrong with you?  You see a ghost or something?”  Luc asks in his French Canadian accent, shaking me.

“Come on you just scored, act like it.”  My cousin Andy quips, and hits me on the side of the head for good measure, and I come back to reality.  “That’s more like it!”  I give him our usual hug and tap on the helmet that we have been doing since we were little.

 *****

The rest of the game goes by without much else I ended up with the game winning goal for the night, plus an assist in the third period giving me two points on the night.  As my line mates and I leave the arena to head home, I notice Eliot hanging around my truck and I tell the guys that I’ll talk to them later.

“I am surprised that you came after me.”  I tell Eliot, truly surprised to see him leaning against the hood of my truck.

“You were good out there.”  He states, like it is just a matter of fact and is of no importance.

“How did you find me?”  Changing the tone of my voice, hoping that a more direct line of questions will get him to answer.

“I’m a retrieval specialist.”  Eliot responds, in a cryptic manner, like I’m supposed to know what that means.  “Two points in one night, not bad.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”  

“I think it means you scored a goal and had an assist, but I am not the expert that would be you.  Not bad even if it is the beer leagues, though you can’t even enjoy a victory beer, which might make the name a bit of a misnomer.”  Eliot remarks, like he just made the funniest joke of the century.

“Ha ha, very funny, I meant the ‘retrieval specialist’ part.”  I snap back at Eliot with as much sarcasm as I can muster after such a hard game.

“It means, I find things.”  Eliot tells me flatly.  “Or in your case it means I found you, by seeing this.”  Picking up my bag of gear and throwing it into the bed of the truck.

“Yeah so, it’s a hockey bag.”  A bag big enough to put a dead body in with room to spare and a giant Vikings logo stitched on the side.

“I remembered seeing the Vikings logo by the door at the bar and saw that you guys played tonight here.”  Eliot throws his duffle into the bed of my truck next to my bag.  “Why are we just standing around the parking lot when there is a flight to catch in a few short hours, and you could use some sleep, this is gonna be the last chance you get to have a real nights sleep until the end of August.”

“You got here on your own, and you can get back just as easily.  And when I said ‘See you on the flight tomorrow’, I meant that I would have seen you on the flight tomorrow to New York, that I could take care of myself for the last few hours I had to enjoy one of the few pleasures I have in life, in private without a creeper watching me.”  I could kill Eliot.  I feel violated, like my life has been torn apart.  I pull his duffle out of the bed of my truck and throw it in the parking lot next to him. I get in the cab and put the keys in the ignition.  I really want to leave his sorry ass behind in Lakewood, but I just couldn’t do it to him.  It is barely possible to catch a cab in Ohio City, but it is completely impossible to catch a cab in Lakewood and I can’t leave a person to hoof it 20 blocks to Detroit road to catch the 55 back downtown.  “Get in.”  I yell as I open the passenger door.

 *****

_Final approach into Hopkins International Airport, Present_

“Jak, wake up.”  I hear from a voice from the distant past, as some one shakes my shoulder.  “The plane is landing, we are almost in Ohio City.”  I look to my right and see Eliot  shaking me and remember the events of the past few hours.  “Where did you go?” Eliot asks like he used to along time ago.

“Not where, but when.”  I say yawning, I hadn’t intended on sleeping.  I guess the drinks at McRory’s finally caught up with me.  “The day we first met, I just started a shift  in which I scored a goal during the second period of my last game before we left for Israel.”  I look out the window next to Eliot and see the familiar lights of my home town greeting me below.

We safely land at the airport right on schedule.  I stretch out of my seat and pull my bags from the overhead bin, and check to make sure my good friend the pharaoh 

had a safe trip back with me in my bag.  It takes forever for everyone to disembark from the plane and enter the terminal.  We head towards to the baggage claim where the entrance to the parking garage is.  When we get to the baggage claim, to my left I see my ex and his “coworkers” grabbing their bags a couple carousels from where we were walking.  I pickup my pace and Eliot follows, letting me lead the way, hopefully he just thinks that I am impatient to get home.  We cross the bridge over the departures entrance to the airport, and we find my truck where my sister left it.  We throw our bags in the bed, and Eliot holds my backpack with the pharaoh’s skull in it.  On the steering wheel, my sister left me a note.  “U O me $4 4 the sharpening.  Skates under seat.  UR Sister”  I feel under my seat and find my skates siting there.

“What’s in the note?”  Eliot asks.

“Just a note from my sister about my skates.”  I reply not thinking.

“Wait you don’t have any siblings.”  Eliot stares at me.

I pull the truck out of the spot and head towards and .  “After my parents died, my best friend’s family took my in as one of their own.  Hence the name that I gave you when we first met. We were practically raised together as kids and we had always joked about being siblings, and then we kinda became siblings.”

“How did Hardison not know that?”  Eliot asks me, really confused.

“I never publicized it, and I was emancipated after my parents died because of my age and the fact I had a decent job at the bar already.”

We turn onto I-71 and head North into the city, towards my apartment.  We drive quietly.  I turn on the radio, and change the station from what my sister had left it at.  I finally settle on a station playing classic rock.  We get off the freeway at W 14th Street and cross the river and pull into the parking spot in front of my duplex.  It is a restored home that has been converted into a two unit duplex that looks upon the downtown skyline across the river.  I hurry up getting my stuff out of the truck and inside, because my ex-boyfriend slash downstairs neighbor is on his way home from the airport, and I really didn’t want to have to deal with him tonight on top of everything else.

We headed up the narrow stairway to my half of the duplex.  I open the door to the apartment.  I have a one bedroom unit that is kinda “T” shaped.  The bedroom and bathroom are next to each other on the West wall, the kitchen and laundry is along the South wall, and at the top bar of the “T” along the East wall has a cathedral ceiling where I have an office setup in one corner, and a living room in the other, along the North wall I have milk crates stacked floor to ceiling filled with books, and finally I have a dining area in the center of the unit.  I pull down the ladder to the attic where I have my hockey bag stored and put my skates inside.  I open the box where I keep the spare sheets for the couch in the living room area, and bring them down with me.

“I have to get up in the morning and meet with my colleague before I give a guest lecture.  I sent Dr. Rob a message about meeting with you, and I will explain everything to him before you meet him at 10:00.”  I tell Eliot before I head into my room and grab a clean pair of boxer-briefs and head into the bathroom to get ready for bed.  “Your turn next.”

When I get out of the bathroom in just my boxer-briefs I nearly bump into Eliot who is critiquing what my sister left in the fridge.  “Don’t worry, I’ll stop by the Westside Market on the way home, let me know what you need.  Good Night.”  I head into my room, leave the door cracked open, turn the light off and go to sleep for a few hours.

 *****

_I crank the music up on my phone as I run through the Metroparks on a trail through the woods.  I just hit the 5k mark and start to turn back to head home.  Out of nowhere comes four guys and they surround me.  I stop, they circle in closer, I try running away from them, but one of the grabs me and and throws me back into the circle.  I get up and start yelling for help.  I hear a voice calling my name, it’s Eliots voice, but it’s distant not here, and he is telling me to wake up.  One of the men starts punching me and I black out._

I wakeup, keep my eyes closed and reach for the knife that I keep under my pillow.  I open my eyes jump out of bed and I scream out as I swing the knife, and it hits something.  Oh my god, what have I done.  There is blood on my hands and Eliot is there...Eliot is there bleeding in my bedroom.  Everything settles and I can start making out what he is saying.  Eliot grabbed the knife out of my hands and is holding onto me.  He moved behind me on the bed and is holding me close to him.

“It’s ok, it was just a dream, it’s just me, breathe.”  Eliot says trying to calm me down, as I relive the worst day of my life and hurt one of the few people who actually gives a damn about me.

“JAK, JAK, is everything alright?  Jak I’m coming in!”  Comes from the door to my apartment, along with banging, and some swearing in French.   In comes my ex, the left wing of the Lake Erie Monsters, Patrick Bordeleau.  Clad in nothing but flannel pants, and armed with my hockey stick.

  



End file.
